Little Bundle of Joy?
by Lithuenne
Summary: The company receives an unexpected member to their group in the goblin tunnels. Just a silly drabble with absolutely no base in fact.
1. Bilbo

To say that their journey so far had become a trifle difficult of late would have been to say that the storm outside had left them a tad damp. The company was still struggling to process the giant battle that had almost crushed half their number, and now they had fallen down into darkness, in another twist of fate that stole their breath away and rendered them speechless.

Thankfully they still had each other, and the lot of them were quickly shepherded into the dubious presence of the almighty goblin king. Most of the dwarves had wrinkled up their faces in obvious disgust for their surroundings, but little Bilbo was gawking in rather horrified fascination. His head turned every which way to take in the immense chamber, his sensitive ears ringing with the noise of their goblin captors.

When the goblin leader raised his hands up for silence the effect was immediate, the clamor dying down to bearable levels before tapering off altogether. It would have been a frightening moment, had the fresh quiet not been pierced by a most unexpected sound. A happy gurgling, emanating from the pile of messy furs at the base of the ramshackle throne only a couple feet away. The company could only stare in stupefied amazement when a tiny, grey-skinned child crawled out from the protective folds of its makeshift bed, the creature regarding them with innocent wonder.

The wildling, or baby goblin if you like, took an immediate interest in poor master Baggins, shooting over to him at a rather impressive speed and eagerly examining his large feet. At first Bilbo was frozen in terror, that is until the little fellow laughed with delight, stroking the hair on his toes with all the gentleness that the adults of his kind tended to lack. Something melted inside him then, a fond memory of hobbit children filling his subconscious as he reached down and plucked the little thing off the floor.

"Hello there little one," he cooed, grinning when he was rewarded with a tap on the nose and a toothless smile.

"Bilbo, put that down!" Thorin scolded him harshly, staring at the child with unconcealed distaste.

Bilbo pouted, a delicate frown marring his normally cheerful disposition. "Oh Thorin, he's just a little baby," he protested softly. "A cutesie, little, happy baby," he added in a sing-song voice as he bounced the giggling creature.

Thorin growled in annoyance, his outrage matched by the general goblin population as one of their few children was being coddled by the enemy. Bilbo seemed to notice this hostility at last, gulping nervously and moving to place the child on the ground when Gandalf intervened in his typical timely fashion. Everyone was bowled over, left blinking in surprise before they scrambled to their feet and began to fight. The group rushed to protect Bilbo, who was still cradling his now screaming charge. He had tried to relieve himself of his burden, but the little one was having none of that. It had tight hold of the hobbit, one chubby hand fisted in his hair, the other around the top button of his waistcoat. Any time he tried to disentangle it the baby screamed all the louder, so at last he shrugged and began to run, reasoning he could set it free outside and the parents would retrieve it.

After a blur of running, fighting, and still more running, they made it out into the daylight. Bilbo was now far behind the main group, having fallen while trying to protect the child from harm. He somehow caught up to them, giving no mention to the shiny new trinket in his possession that had effected his escape. Breathing heavily, he sat down on a log, his charge now calmly blinking up at him.

"Bilbo, what are you still doing with that thing?" Thorin growled, pinching his nose in frustration as he fought for patience.

"He is not a thing, Thorin Oakenshield!" Bilbo snapped, holding the squirming child close. "He's a baby, and you leave him alone, you big bully!" His voice was fierce as any mothers and Gandalf smirked when Thorin backed off hurriedly, the dwarf knowing a lost cause when he saw one.

Thorin threw up his hands in disgust. "Fine, but he's under your charge!" He then proceeded to carefully ignore the hobbit, venting his anger on anyone who would listen, and even those who tried to subtly escape his mounting wrath.

"What will you call him?" Gandalf asked, sidling up to the hobbit to gaze down at the companies unexpected addition.

Bilbo jumped a little, staring at the wizard for a moment before understanding dawned. "Hmm, suppose he does need a name. Well, he's a goblin that much is clear, so how about Gorbo." The little one chirped happily at the sound of the name, garnering a chuckle from the wizard.

"Gorbo Baggins it is," Gandalf huffed mirthfully.

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><p><strong>Author's note: I had the strangest dream last night, and this was the result, so hopefully it isn't too stupid, haha. I am thinking of perhaps adding another chapter or two on the reactions of other people in middle earth when they come across Bilbo's charge. Let me know what you all thought of my mindless drabble!<br>**


	2. Beorn

The look on Gandalf's face was not at all reassuring when he mentioned their host's intense hatred for goblins. His pointed glance towards the slumbering child tucked in the crook of Bilbo's arm didn't bode well either. So, the company burglar was understandably nervous as they crossed the flower-studded field that bordered Beorn's lands. They could already hear the sounds of someone nearby, and when they rounded the hedge they all stopped short, stumbling as they backed a few paces away.

Beorn was a giant of a man, having what seemed like several feet on everyone but Gandalf. He had turned at their approach, the ax he was using to chop wood resting on his shoulder as he regarded them with suspicion. Bilbo observed him warily from his spot at the back of the group. The hobbit had undone his jacket, and he now had it slung across him such that little Gorbo was nearly entirely hidden from sight, still blessedly asleep.

"What do dwarves want here on my lands?" Beorn demanded crossly.

"We are in need of a little help I fear, after escaping from the goblin tunnels. Just to get us back on our feet," Gandalf explained hurriedly.

"What did you go bothering goblins for? Stupid thing to do," Beorn snorted.

"Not like we had a choice," Kili snapped indignantly, before shutting his mouth with a snap when Fili shoved an elbow into his side. "What? It's true," he muttered, giving his brother a mulish glare.

Beorn seemed almost amused by this. "The goblins are not known for their hospitality, that is true wolf cub," he remarked drily, ignoring Kili's sputtering at the nickname, and the subsequent ribbing from the rest of the company. "But who is the little bunny you have brought along with you?" he asked, looking faintly curious.

The company glanced around in confusion before all turning to stare at Bilbo. "I think he means our burglar," Bofur laughed, tugging the now shaking hobbit forward into Beorn's immediate vicinity.

Bilbo shrank under his stare, mouth opening and closing in outrage at being called a bunny, but unable to find the words to protest. Naturally, Gorbo took this moment to waken, poking his head out with a happy squeal before he caught sight of the giant man. The little one squeaked in fear, small hands tugging with all their might on Bilbo's hair as if he could hide in the curls if only he pulled hard enough. Bilbo winced in pain, admonishing him gently. "Gorbo lad, not nice. Let go please."

"What. Is. That." Beorn took a step closer, his ax raised again, his expression one of barely contained fury. Bilbo reflexively jumped backwards, tucking the little one into one arm and drawing his sword. He shook it menacingly at Beorn, scowling warningly.

"This is MY Gorbo!" he cried, flinching apologetically when the child whimpered at the sight of the glowing blade. The young one already had the presence of mind to fear such a weapon. "It's ok, it's ok," Bilbo murmured soothingly, juggling the baby lightly even as he glared at Beorn.

To their surprise (and relief), Beorn laughed, a deep rumbling sound that filled the air. "Little bunny has teeth," he chuckled. "Tell me, why do you have the spawn of those foul creatures with you?"

"I found him," Bilbo admitted. "Or, rather, he found me I suppose. By the time we escaped outside I found I was still holding him. After that it was just a short trip to giving him a name, and I think he has rather adopted me," he added sheepishly. "I have always been quite fond of children," he said at last.


	3. Thorin

Bilbo very quickly decided that Mirkwood was a terrible place. It was smelly, it was dark, it was muddy, oh and did he mention it was dark? He hadn't seen the sun in forever, and he was starting to forget what it felt like to be warm and dry. Bilbo wasn't even sure how any moisture could manage to break through the heavy canopy of the forest when sunlight was unable to, but somehow it was perpetually damp. His toes squished through the soggy loam coating the path, and for a brief moment he seriously considered the merits of the dwarves heavy boots. What he wouldn't give for a soft bed and a warm bath right about now, he felt positively disgusting. A far cry from the civilized creature that left his home some months ago.

Naturally Gorbo was thriving in the suppressive darkness of the forest. The little one seemed completely at ease with the lack of light, and untroubled by the cold temperatures. Upon reflection, Bilbo was quick to realize that considering where he had grown up this should not have come as a surprise. It was just as closed in, just as cold, the heavy air making every breath troublesome, but the baby continued to chatter happily. It was a small light in their dreary circumstances, breaking the monotony of the days apart with just a little bit of unsuppressed joy.

Even the dwarves were warming to his antics, the younger ones seeking him out in the evenings to teach the little one dwarven clapping games. Gorbo was delighted with this new entertainment, enthralled by his companions as he giggled with abandon. This eased Bilbo's work greatly, as he was often able to pass the lad into an available lap while he relaxed somewhat. Only the older dwarves continued to avoid the child, unable to forget their prejudice enough to accept him.

It was late one night when this posed a sudden problem for Bilbo. He had been sleeping, Gorbo tucked against his chest, the lads ankle tethered to him so he wouldn't sneak away. Bilbo blinked against the firelight as he came awake, recognizing his inescapable need as what had roused him. Gorbo slept on when he gathered him up, but Bilbo knew he could not take care of his business while holding the little one. He glanced around, cursing inwardly when he saw that Thorin was the only one awake on watch. Glancing towards the near darkness, he debated leaving Gorbo on his sleeping mat, his legs already beginning an embarrassing dance as he fought to keep himself together. It was almost as if his inner turmoil was showing itself in physical form, an irritation he didn't really need right now, and especially in front of their judgmental leader.

"I will take him." The voice broke through Bilbo's internal debate, startling him badly. He spun around, blinking owlishly at Thorin who was now regarding him with the barest hint of patience, and possibly amusement.

"What?" he choked out.

Thorin sighed, getting to his feet and gently drawing Gorbo into his own sturdy arms. "I will hold him, go take care of what you need."

Nodding, Bilbo fled to the trees, going as fast as he could to get out of eyesight. He did not stray far, knowing instinctively how unsafe it was out there. With a muted groan of relief he completed his task and crept quietly back to the firelight, pausing just behind one of the trees to watch the curious sight that was unfolding. Gorbo was awake, staring up at Thorin inquisitively.

"You know you're a horrible little runt?" the dwarf informed him softly, the tiniest trace of a smile on his lips when the little one just chirped back at him. Suddenly Gorbo reached up and latched onto one of Thorin's braids, shining eyes locked on the silver bead at its end. The dwarf grunted in annoyance, frowning down at his charge. "Let go of the bead," he ordered the baby seriously.

Gorbo just blinked back at him. "Ee," he cried.

"Ha, you've an eye for shiny things, just like my nephews," Thorin chuckled lowly. "It's bead, bea-d."

"Ee, ee," Gorbo echoed happily, bouncing about at the attention.

"Alright, that's enough of that," Bilbo murmured, interrupting the moment with a cautious smile as he held out his hands to take his ward back. Gorbo let out a soft wail when his fingers were pried off the bead, but the hobbit was able to placate him with one of the buttons that had fallen off his waistcoat.


	4. The Woodland Realm

Bilbo shivered, clinging tightly to a softly whimpering Gorbo as they ran through the forest. The two were alone, following after the spiders that had taken their friends, and Bilbo had never been more grateful for the unassuming loop of gold he had found in the goblin tunnels. It had been an incredible relief to find out that it concealed not only himself but whatever he happened to be holding close to his person at the time. As long as the lad stayed in his arms he remained as invisible as his carer.

It was with some difficulty that he caught up to the foul creatures, arriving slightly short of breath. He took a moment to examine the situation, noting grimly the wriggling bundles that were his companions. They were surrounded by spiders, and he cast about for a distraction, his foot bumping into something hard on the ground. A simple pebble, but it gave him a brilliant idea.

Praying he wasn't about to epically screw this up, Bilbo began throwing rocks with dizzying precision. He then got a smirk on his face as he improvised an insulting little tune to amuse Gorbo with. Belting out the song, he began backing away from the clearing and drawing the enemy with him. The spiders were predictably outraged, and swiftly began a search for the elusive burglar and his giggling companion. All that could be heard by the dwarves that were now conscious was the retreating sound of Bilbo singing, accompanied by high pitched laughter.

Bilbo wasted no time in cutting down his companions once he had returned, having left the spiders to their confusion. He was treated to many pats on the back for his heroics. To their amusement, Gorbo tried to emulate their antics, patting Bilbo's cheeks and babbling approvingly. The young one was happy to be surrounded by his protectors once again.

Of course, that didn't last as long as they would have liked, and before Bilbo could blink the group was being approached by heavily armed and hostile elves. He just had the presence of mind to slip the ring back on and give Gorbo a meaningful look that the lad was thankfully perceptive enough to catch. The little one fell silent, eyes wide and worried as his companions, all save for Bilbo, were trussed up and marched away. The two followed like a shadow.

The next week was a blur of fear and sleepless nights for Bilbo as he fought to stay undetected with a child in tow. Almost all the food he managed to steal went to Gorbo, for it was the only way to keep him quiet, and even that was not enough at times. He would never forget the day he had chosen injury over being caught, left with no other options.

Gorbo was starting to get teeth, a couple of sharp points peeking out of his sore gums and making him exceptionally irritable. Bilbo could hardly blame the lad, he would have been grumpy too, but the timing couldn't have been worse. They were sitting tucked into an alcove when Gorbo suddenly sank his new teeth into Bilbo's hand. The poor hobbit stifled a yelp of pain, hissing at the lad to stop as he restrained himself from swatting at him. Days of not enough food and sleep were threatening to send him over the edge, and explained his less than charitable thoughts at the time.

"Gorbo no!" he whispered angrily, yanking his hand back and looking mournfully at the twin punctures in the skin.

Normally Gorbo would have gone quiet at such a rebuff, but the child was hungry and sore and in no mood to be compliant. He let out a fearful wail, Bilbo's heart stopping as he heard voices nearby questioning the noise. With nothing else to do, the hobbit shoved his hand back into the baby's mouth, whimpering lowly at the needle-like pain. The only good thing to come of it was that Gorbo calmed instantly, gnawing on him contentedly and edging towards sleep.

When elves rounded the corner of the path all was silent once more, and before long they shrugged and moved on. It was not unheard of for someone to be out walking with a tired child at night, and they thought no more of it for some time. It would be weeks until they found out exactly what had been lurking in their halls.

* * *

><p><strong>Author note: I know the ring doesn't work this way, (at least it didn't during Frodo's fight with Gollum) but I'm choosing to make it so for the purposes of this story. Apologies for the blatant divergence from canon. On a side note, it has rather bothered me that Bilbo can carry an invisible sword, but nothing else that he touches becomes invisible. Must be because they are people and not objects.<br>**


	5. Bard

After the most nerve wracking ride down a river that Bilbo had ever experienced he sat against a rock on the shore, chest heaving and arms aching. Somehow he had managed to keep Gorbo safe, with more than a little help from whatever dwarf was nearby at the time. He had been passed from barrel to barrel, strong arms holding the hobbit out of the water as he clutched the baby tightly.

At least they hadn't been pursued. The elves seemed not to have noticed their departure, despite the loud squeals from an over excited Gorbo, and matching yells from the dwarves. Unlike Bilbo, his companions seemed to be running on some sort of adrenaline fueled rush from their escape, and he supposed he couldn't blame them. Their stay in Mirkwood had been positively dreadful, and the poor hobbit was close to starving at this point, after nearly a week with no more than a crust of bread under his belt.

"Up you come lad," Bofur said cheerfully, dragging him to his feet where he swayed unsteadily. He thanked his friend for the support as Bofur continued to hold him up, and the dwarf smiled and stayed at his side.

They were just about to move on towards Laketown when a voice hailed them from nearby.

"What are strangers doing floating about in these lands?" the dark-haired man quizzed them.

Balin was silently elected to answer him, and the elder dwarf tried his best to explain their predicament without giving themselves away. "We're a bit lost and out of supplies," he confessed genially. "On our way to the Iron Hills you see, but we ended up taking an unexpected detour. That forest is not the most accommodating for wandering travelers." The group shuddered in agreement, relaxing marginally when the man appeared to take his words at face value.

"Come, I will take you into town and we can see about getting you a hot meal at least," the man replied. "My name is Bard, I'm the bargeman in charge of those barrels you pulled up in." He caught sight of Bilbo then, and his charge, and his eyes widened. "Walking in the wild with a young one? A child of goblins no less. Now I _have_ seen everything."

"He's my son now," Bilbo said defensively, dreading a violent reaction from the armed man.

Bard just chuckled, motioning them aboard. "Relax young master. I am not about to punish a child for his parentage. I have three children of my own, I well remember their innocence."

Sagging, Bilbo sighed. "Oh, well in that case I apologize. Bilbo Baggins at your service, and this is little Gorbo." He held the child up for inspection, the man scrutinizing the unusual sight with cheerful interest.

Suddenly Bard frowned, pulling out his knife and causing both Bilbo and Gorbo to squawk in distress. The hobbit was gratified when more than half the company rallied around him in a protective gesture, but the man just snorted, tossing the knife into a barrel. He extended a hand towards Gorbo, allowing the youngster to grab the leather sheathe, the little one giving a muted gurgle of appreciation as he stuffed it into his mouth and bit down.

"He's teething isn't he?" Bard offered with a reassuring smile.

Bilbo gaped, still trying to digest the unexpected gesture. "How did you know?" he asked at last. Bard just pointed to the healing wound on his hand, smirking when the hobbit flushed in embarrassment. "He didn't mean to hurt me," he muttered.

"I know, I have some of those myself," Bard returned with a knowing grin, proffering a hand to show off the miniscule scars that covered his palm. "All three were terrible teethers," he said with a look of mock sorrow.

The two continued to talk amiably for the rest of the trip into town, Gloin occasionally chipping in with a tale of his own about his lad back home. Fatherhood it seemed made even the most stoic of warriors mushy with pride, and even served to bridge the gap between races. Bilbo would always be grateful for the easy acceptance that Bard had offered him and his unusual family.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: We will likely see even more of Bard and his family later, as I plan to include the reactions of his children to Gorbo. I also have another chapter planned and in the works, and it should be ready by tomorrow hopefully. At this point I think I am going to have at least one chapter dedicated to each member of the company, and then others for different people (or places) of importance, so we have a fair way to go yet. I am mostly following the book, though some movie references may make themselves known, just in case that needed clarifying.<br>**


	6. Gloin

After the most comfortable night imaginable Bilbo wondered why he had awoken feeling like he had been stomped on by an oliphaunt. He had barely sat up and his head was whirling, his chest aching, and the room was so very hot. It felt like the time long ago when he had overindulged in mead at the Green Dragon. He had thrown up then, a lot, and the memory had him lurching to the side of the bed to cover the floor in sick.

His distress, and his general absence from the breakfast table was noted by the company, and the door banged open as the two youngest members of the group came to wake their burglar. They took one look at the mess he had made on the floor and stopped in uncharacteristic concern.

"Master Boggins, are you ill?" Kili asked (rather stupidly, Bilbo thought to himself).

The hobbit responded with a barrage of violent sneezing, his nose turning quite red before he had ended with a pathetic groan of dismay.

"I'll go fetch Oin," Fili offered, gaining instant points with the ailing hobbit for his actions.

The two hurried out of the room, and Bilbo could dimly hear a growing cacophony as the others were alerted to his condition. He wondered vaguely how he was going to look after Gorbo in this state, worried the little tyke would get ill himself.

Gorbo! Twisting around in panic, Bilbo quickly deduced that the child was not in the room, but how on earth had he not noticed that before? He must be really sick to be so unobservant, and he clutched his head as it began to remind him why he should not be moving so very fast right now.

He was nearly hyperventilating when the entire company piled into the small room, Oin grumbling as he shoved the others out of the way and sat himself beside the hobbit. The healer placed a firm hand on Bilbo's head, nodding grimly.

"Burning up there, master Baggins. Bed for you, for at least a week I reckon. Tis lucky we have plenty of time for you to recuperate." The minute he had made this declaration Bilbo grew even more agitated if that were possible, immediately trying to get up. "None of that," Oin snapped, holding him down with one hand while he rummaged for a sleeping tonic with the other.

"Gorbo," the hobbit pleaded, worry breaking through the fever that glazed his eyes.

"I've got the tyke in hand, never you fear," Gloin reassured him, and though Bilbo was momentarily surprised at this sudden relaxation of the dwarf's previous dislike of Gorbo, he nevertheless felt reassured. In the end Oin didn't even need the tonic, for the hobbit's eyes closed of their own accord, sending him into a restless sleep.

He woke often, always to see one of the company sitting by his bedside. They were well prepared, with cool water, soothing towels, and warm broth that eased down his aching throat. He began slowly to improve, and his concern shifted from his own predicament to the welfare of his adopted son.

The third morning he woke to find Gloin sitting nearby, the baby curled up asleep on his lap. The burly dwarf had a fond smile on his face, a light of reminiscence in his eyes. Seeing that Bilbo was awake he nodded a greeting. "Lad sleeps like a log," he murmured gruffly. "My Gimli now, he were much more rambunctious than this. Always bouncing around, climbing things, trying to lift my weapons. Gorbo here is so quiet I hardly notice he's there half the time."

"Much like a hobbit babe then," Bilbo chuckled. "I was a quiet child myself, at least for the first little while. I got into all sorts of mischief once I could walk. That was when I met Gandalf you know. He would come to the Shire, setting off his whizpoppers, and I'd be out there all hours of the day and night, trailing mud and fireflies after me."

"You?" Gloin asked incredulously. "No... I canna believe it."

Bilbo laughed weakly. "It's true, ask the wizard if you don't believe me." He turned rather serious then. "I hope I did the right thing, taking him. I want to give him the life I had, with all sorts of adventure and fun, but peace too. Though...perhaps teaching him to fight as he grows would be useful. I'm starting to realize that the rest of the world is not so safe as my home, and I would never wish for him to be caught at a disadvantage."

"You'll do fine," Gloin assured him. "After all, you've got a whole company to help with the job."

"That I do," Bilbo nodded, touched by the unspoken offer.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Just a quick shout out, for whatever reason I seem unable to directly reply to most of the reviews I've gotten on this story, no idea why, so I'm including a general thank you here. It's very satisfying to know people are enjoying this small series :) The next chapter may take a couple days, as I'm still working on an idea, but I have a few already, so not to worry, it's in the works. <strong>


	7. Ori

'How had it come to this?' Bilbo wondered sadly as he stole quietly along the shadowed halls of the reclaimed kingdom. It had seemed for just a moment that everything was going to be alright. They had found the door, Smaug had left without attacking them, and treasure beyond their wildest dreams had appeared before their eyes. Then they got news that the dragon had been slain, which in his opinion was just the icing on the cake.

Of course that was when everything went wrong. Men and elves were marching upon the mountain, and Thorin, who he had thought they could always count on, was a changed man. Darkness filled his eyes, darkness and gold, and Bilbo was afraid to be near him, and flinched whenever he became the victim of his latest tirade. The hobbit knew it was partially his fault, but how could he reveal the gem hidden in his pocket now that their leader was insane? He could not get the words out of his head that the dragon had spoken to him, of how the gold would drive Thorin mad. He hadn't wanted to believe it, but the truth was before his eyes, in the form of the ever brooding king.

When Thorin managed to have them put under siege with nothing but a few choice words, that was when Bilbo knew it was up to him. He had to make a plan, anything to get them out of this horrible predicament. So what if he had a selfish reason now? Perhaps the dwarves would be happy to starve themselves to death among their treasure, but Gorbo could not eat gold and Bilbo would be damned if he lost the boy to the stubbornness of his friends.

He had been wandering, and thinking, for awhile now with Gorbo tied to his back in a sling when he came across a set of rooms that looked far more intricate than the others. Ever-curious, Bilbo peeked in at doorways and knew right away that he must have found the royal wing. Such opulence he had never before seen in one space before. Even the treasure chamber could not compare, for the wealth in these rooms was organized and purposeful, not scattered about by the whim of a careless beast.

Still, it was only gold, and he had no earthly use for it right now, so he found himself moving on rather quickly. It wasn't for another four rooms that he found something worth discovering, and he entered the larger room with a grin. The main piece of furniture was a large crib. It was wrought of metal that had been carefully smoothed to ensure no child would injure themselves upon it, and Bilbo felt it would be perfect for keeping Gorbo contained. He was quick to tug it out of the room and down the wide hall, thankful both for the wheels on the bottom and for the tracks his feet had left in the dusty halls.

He had just pulled into the hall where the company was staying when a deep voice stopped him in his tracks. "Burglar, what are you doing?"

Bilbo whirled at the sound, feeling a surge of irritation that he had to explain the obvious. "I found it in my wanderings and I thought it would be good for Gorbo," he said with forced patience. For the longest moment Thorin just stared at him, before nodding and walking away, leaving Bilbo and the rest of the company to sigh in relief.

When news arrived telling of another army heading their way, this time of orcs and wargs, Bilbo felt sure Thorin would come to his senses, but he did not. Their leader left them standing on the battlements, exchanging sad and confused looks. The hobbit snuck out that night alone, leaving Gorbo in his new accommodations to sleep, and handed over the one thing he had left as a bargaining chip. He spent the cold twilit hours on the wall top, waiting for an answer.

When it came, and Thorin discovered his role in the situation, Bilbo never thought he would see the king sunk so low. He never believed he would have to fear the one he had called friend, who had been so gentle with the child he had claimed as his own. He never dreamed he would be cast out as a traitor, and the shock was so great that he gave not another thought to anything for a long time. He simply allowed himself to he led away from the mountain by Gandalf, leaving behind his Gorbo, the child waiting in the dark for someone to come.

In the end it was Ori who found Gorbo whimpering in the small pile of blankets he had curled up in, and the young scribe felt a painful stab of regret. He knew well the sting of abandonment by a parent, for his own father had left when he was but a boy. He never would have wished that fate on another. Even worse, Bilbo had not had a choice.

"It's alright little one, I'll look after you until Bilbo gets back," he said softly, scooping the lad up into his arms.

"Bibo?" the baby asked sadly, looking hopefully around at the sound of his carers name.

"Shhh, he'll come back, I promise."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Well, that was unexpectedly depressing. I know I labeled this as Ori's chapter, but he didn't really get as much time as I had planned, so there's a likelihood that he will get a make-up chapter later on. I also realize that we are now on the eve of the battle and Fili and Kili have not had their chapters yet (I <em>did<em> plan on each company member getting their own), so fair warning, I plan for this to be an everyone lives fic. I haven't yet seen the last movie, but even the thought of them dying has me unreasonably angry, so I just can't kill them here.  
><strong>


	8. Oin

The aftermath of battle was always the worst part, this Oin was absolutely certain of. After all, who would know better than a healer? Later Oin would say it was lucky he had remained unscathed, so he was well able to do his job when the wounded began streaming in. Luckier still that he was going deaf, so the sounds of pain and anguish were dim in his ears. His patients arrived in droves, some under their own power, but most carried by others in various states of consciousness. He was reduced to being one of many healers in the communal tent, his race unimportant as he worked alongside elves and men to patch together what remained of their grand armies.

Slowly he was made aware of the state of his company, the lot of them coming to him in pairs or groups as they were located. Most had gotten away with superficial injuries, a stroke of luck that he had not the time to appreciate in these trying hours. He worked tirelessly all the same, bandaging and cleaning their wounds, refusing to let anyone else see to them. _He_ was their healer, it was _his_ responsibility, and he refused to relinquish the job, no matter how tired he became.

Before long nearly the whole group was accounted for. All save for the royals. They had not yet been found he was told, when he asked after them. Many of the original group had left as soon as their bandages were tied to renew the search. They ranged far and wide, and Oin remained behind to prepare for the worst, all while hoping for the best.

It was a muffled shout that drew him out of the tent. "Oin! We found them!"

The healer watched grimly as the three heirs of Durin were bodily carried inside, secretly pleased to see that both the younger ones, while clearly in immense pain, were still somehow cheerfully complaining.

"It's just a scratch," Kili protested, gesturing vaguely at the horrendous gash across his torso. "At least I'm not impersonating a porcupine," he added with a grin, waggling a brow in Fili's direction.

"Hey!" the blond grouched indignantly. "It's only four arrows, hardly worth even speaking about."

"Uh huh," Kili agreed with a silly smirk.

"Boys, that's enough," Balin admonished them, though he was beaming at their good spirits.

"Lie still now," Oin ordered the two, working quickly to get them fixed up. "What about Thorin?" he asked worriedly, nodding towards the unconscious king.

"Oh, uncle took a knock to the head," Fili explained. "He should be fine I would think, other than a massive headache that is. I've seen him take harder hits in training."

"Good, good, perhaps it's knocked some sense into him" Oin muttered, yanking one of the arrows out of the blond and shaking his head apologetically when his charge was forced to stifle a yell in his hands. He silently handed the prince a strap of leather to bite on. "This is gonna hurt." Fili just raised a brow with a half-glare, not needing words to convey his annoyance with the late warning. "So we're all here then," he added absently, glancing around for confirmation.

"All except Bilbo," Balin murmured lowly, the others grumbling in concerned agreement. They were shuffling their feet with guilt, each one's thoughts turning to the wrongfully banished burglar.

"That's right, Bilbo's missi-... Gorbo!" Oin suddenly yelled, startling the others. Many of them turned various shades of white, looking around in shock as they remembered their most innocent charge. "Where is the lad?"

"I last saw him in his crib, back in the mountain," Ori offered. "I put him in there right before we went out to the battle."

Oin swore, glaring around as if he sought to place blame for this lack of foresight. "Alright, go and fetch him then, and by Mahal I hope for all our sakes he is still there and safe. Bilbo will kill the lot of us if we failed at this, especially after what... well never mind. Just go get him," he snapped impatiently. "And someone find the burglar. I want to see him in here before the sun sets. Go!"

All those who could walk scattered, prepared to search all night for the two most precious members of their company.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Oooh cliffie! I'm not being very nice to poor Gorbo am I? As a parent I actually find myself appalled at how I've been treating the tyke, but not to worry, perhaps he hasn't gotten into too much mischief in a day.<br>**


	9. Dwalin

Within an hour three dwarves stood at the gates of Erebor. Dwalin and Bofur flanked Ori, who was leading the way to where he had left Gorbo, trying not to think about what they might find. It was deathly quiet in the halls, nothing but their echoing footsteps to break the silence. The latter two of the group felt that this boded ill, but Dwalin knew better. He was well accustomed to the antics of toddlers, and he had far too much experience with the meaning of a heavy silence. It was never exactly reassuring, but he at least felt that it didn't mean a complete lack of hope.

"So, where did you say he was?" Dwalin rumbled, staring around the large room they had been holed up in for the better part of a week.

Ori strode ahead, nervously wringing his hands. "I placed him in his crib, like I said before," he reiterated, pointing to the metal bars that had come into view. "He was right... here," he trailed off. The three of them were soon standing in a ring around the clearly empty (and obviously ineffective) prison. "He was here, I swear he was," he said shrilly, sounding more panicked by the minute, wide eyes trained on the blankets as if to will the baby into being. Bofur looked equally perplexed and worried, reaching in to shake the covers around and lifting up the thin mattress to see if Gorbo had gotten himself trapped underneath somehow.

To their joint surprise Dwalin just chuckled. "Relax laddie, I believe ya. Little runt is one heck of an escape artist. Already taking after Bilbo it would seem."

"You think?" Ori asked hopefully.

The burly dwarf nodded confidently. "Aye, I reckon he's crawling around not far from here. Probably found sommat interesting to look at and got distracted. Let's take a look around." The others nodded, splitting up to begin a careful search.

"How do you know so much about little 'uns?" Bofur called curiously, glancing over at him.

"Hmmm? Oh, I used to help Thorin with Fili and Kili when they were wee lads and Dis was away. Those two were masters at disappearing, near drove their uncle mad," he laughed. "By the time they were old enough to _really_ get into things we were wise to most of their tricks," he continued, watching the floor as if he were tracking an animal. He had his ears trained for any sound that was out of place, ignoring the looks of incredulous surprise that he was getting from his search partners. He knew he didn't look like the type to be watching children, which made it all the more amusing when he caught sight of what was unmistakably Gorbo's recent tracks.

"A-hah!" he exclaimed softly. He crept forward, the others sensing his impending victory and following behind. Rounding a pile of gold, Dwalin swooped a massive hand out, grabbing the missing child by the back of his filthy trousers and getting a startled shriek for his trouble. "Gotcha, little runt," he grinned triumphantly. He was soon wrinkling his nose in distaste. "None too soon it would seem as well," he snorted, hurrying over to the bundle of things Bilbo had left behind to fix the boy's pitiable state.

The trio were shortly headed back to the healing camp, now up one member of their group and in a desperate search for food. Gorbo had been happy for no more than a minute once he was clean before protesting vehemently about the lack of meals he had been given the last day. They slipped into the tent where the others were waiting, and there were smiles all around as the three were shown their burglar, sleeping on a cot and recovering nicely from his own minor head wound.

It was late evening when Bilbo woke, the hobbit instantly trying to sit up and groaning miserably as his head swam with dizziness. He looked blearily around the tent he now found himself in, jumping at the proximity of the sleeping Thorin, and then again when he saw that Dwalin was sitting and watching him. Gorbo lay snoozing on the warrior's lap, a large finger clutched in his tiny hand and a contented smile on his face.

"Alright there Master Baggins?" Dwalin asked gently.

"I, that is, yes I think so," the hobbit replied uncertainly, not sure how to take the sight of the dwarf holding his boy, and Thorin, whom he was a tad afraid of at the moment.

Balin entered the tent at that moment, looking rightly pleased to see Bilbo awake. "Don't worry laddie, my brother's good with the little ones," he reassured the hobbit calmly, smirking at the way said brother appeared embarrassed with the praise. Bilbo just nodded, still in a daze, and continued to look around, his eyes darting away whenever they came to rest on Thorin. "Thorin is better now," Balin continued carefully. "He asked for you, wanted to apologize. I imagine he'll do it himself once he wakes up again."

"Oh," was all Bilbo could think to say. "Alright." He closed his eyes and went back to sleep, lulled into a sense of security at the sight of his son safe and unharmed.

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><p><strong>Author's note: Bit of a fluffier chapter now, and for the next couple I expect. I'm not entirely sure where this tale is going to go from here, so the next one might be a few days in coming while I work up some inspiration.<br>**


	10. Balin

It had taken many exhausting days, and rougher nights, but the entire company was now on the mend and residing in the reclaimed mountain. Tentative negotiations were beginning between the leaders of all who had participated in the swiftly dubbed 'battle of five armies', and though slow, they had not yet descended into violence, and so were counted a success. Bilbo was determined to keep well away from these delicate proceedings, not seeing any point to his unhelpful presence, and thankfully the company agreed with his decision.

The hobbit was currently in the rooms that had been given to him upon reentering the mountain. Ironically, he had been offered the royal nursery, the very room where he had found the crib that housed Gorbo during the fight, and it became a private joke among the company that the first new resident of the mountain was not even a dwarf. The space had been washed and dusted, and was now warm throughout from the crackling fire that had been coaxed to life in the once abandoned hearth. An extra bed had been brought in for Bilbo and set up right beside the crib, nearer to the hearth than they had been before, for the hobbit was unused to the frigid mornings that came with mountain living at the brink of winter.

Despite all the effort that had been put forth to make him comfortable, and the numerous strained apologies a guilty Thorin had sent his way (most by note, as the dwarf was not good at speaking such feelings aloud), Bilbo still felt out of place. The room echoed, and it lacked any of the plush furniture that he was used to from his own home, devoid of any personal touches like paintings and books and rugs. Bilbo was longing to return to the Shire, to ready his garden for spring planting and feel the good earth under his feet. The only thing that worried him was the reception his son would receive. Gorbo was clearly not a hobbit, and a product of his adventuring besides, and he knew the cruel way that "proper" hobbits would act when introduced to him.

Bilbo decided he would bring the topic up at supper with the company, who still ate together at the end of the day to take comfort in the presence of their fellows. He knew his returning home was an inevitable thing, so he decided that it might just be best to get it over with, rather than drawing out the pain of separation from his new friends. This idea was only further cemented when he bumped into Gandalf, who he had not seen since the battle ended.

"Bilbo!" the wizard called fondly, a smile crinkling across his face. "Just the hobbit I was looking for!"

"Evening Gandalf," Bilbo returned politely, shifting Gorbo around in his arms so the lad could see better.

"Gan!" he chirped, seeming to recognize the wizard, though they had only been together a small handful of times.

"I meant to check in on you sooner," Gandalf explained, lowering his voice so their conversation remained private. "I suspect you will be wanting to return home, and I shall be delighted to escort you as soon as you are ready," he informed the suddenly grateful hobbit.

"Whatever would I do without you?" Bilbo sighed, nodding his agreement as the wizard chuckled at the compliment. "I shall have to inform the company, but I see no reason for any delay. I have little belongings, and I assume I could be ready to leave come morning."

The two strolled into the eating hall together, and were greeted from all sides as the company converged upon them. None save the negotiators had seen Gandalf since the onset of battle, and though they had seen Bilbo every day they were as glad of his presence as they had ever been.

Once they had all settled into chairs and were comfortably eating Bilbo cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the entire room. He decided not to bother beating around the bush, knowing well by now that dwarves were blunt folk and appreciated the quality in others. "Gandalf has informed me that he is willing to provide escort should I wish to return home and I have decided to accept his offer. I thought you should know that I will be leaving in the morning," he announced without preamble.

The room was abruptly dead silent, save for the muffled coughing from Thorin's direction. The dwarf had been drinking, and apparently Bilbo's news was shocking enough to cause him to choke. The quiet lasted only a few seconds before a burst of sound filled the air, most of the company protesting Bilbo's imminent departure.

It was Balin who managed to bring the room to order, at the same time using his many years as a diplomat to try and convince Bilbo to stay a while longer. "Are you sure it's wise, leaving so soon?" he asked carefully, not wanting to insult the hobbit. "After all, winter is coming fast, and Gorbo might not appreciate the cold so much outside the mountain. Not to mention the remaining goblin forces may still be on the lookout for the two of you."

"What are you saying?" Bilbo asked weakly, working through his words as he searched for any falsehood. He found none, and even before Balin continued he was forced to agree that the dwarf might be right, especially as Gandalf was subtly smiling and offering no protest.

"Stay the winter with us," Balin requested, glancing at Thorin and receiving an instant nod of approval for the gesture. "Come spring we will be more than happy to escort you home ourselves, if that is your wish," he ended, and the offer relieved Bilbo, though he hadn't missed the insinuation behind that last bit. '_If that is your wish_.' As if he mightn't want to go home at all. The hobbit wondered if that was even possible, but reflected that it didn't matter right now.

"All right, I'll stay," he assured them, heartened by the genuine pleasure in the faces of his friends.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Here is where I further diverge from canon, though at this point I can't really get much more AU considering the Durins are all alive and well. What I want to know from those reading however, do any of you wish to see a romantic aspect to this fic? I will not promise anything, as I myself have not made up my mind if I want this to happen, but if there was a resounding no from my reader base (or the other way around), I will certainly take that into consideration.<br>**


	11. Bofur

Winter was slow in passing, and though there was very little opportunity to go outside, Bilbo found himself thoroughly occupied with the goings-on in the mountain. The dwarves were well known for being industrious, and this showed all the more as they began to restore their home in leaps and bounds. Every day that Bilbo wandered the halls, Gorbo clasped to his chest, he would see something else new. A room that had been filled with dust, now clean and sparkling. A corridor that had been blocked off, now cleared of rubble and leading to some previously unexplored part of the kingdom.

Bilbo found himself spending a lot of time with Bofur, during the hours of the day that the rest of the company was working. The miner had happily begun to explain to him the many details he was sorting out with regards to Erebor's mines, pointing out blueprints and charts in an almost reverent glee. He was only beginning to look over things at this point, for until the return of more of their kin to the mountain there could be no major work. It would take many hands to begin reopening the deep passages and making them safe for use once again. For a brief moment Bilbo had hesitantly compared the venture to the way hobbits would plan out the digging of their holes, flushing when Bofur laughed in amused agreement.

"Aye, I reckon it's like that well enough, though on a much grander scale. More risk with these holes, what with an entire kingdom resting on their shoulders. Still, I wouldn't have thought you to be experienced in such matters," he said with surprise.

"Oh, well, I'm actually not really," Bilbo confessed. "My father built my home for my mother before I was born, and most homes are passed down through the family, so there haven't been any others built in a long time. I still have the blueprints lying around in my study," he said thoughtfully.

Gorbo interrupted them then, grabbing for the papers with interest.

"Oh no you don't," Bofur grinned, moving them out of harms reach swiftly. At the retreat of the pleasantly rustling distraction Gorbo howled indignantly, straining to clamber out of Bilbo's lap and get to them.

Bilbo groaned in exasperation. "Please, settle down Gorbo," he almost whined, feeling yet again that he was woefully unprepared for the task that he had taken upon himself.

Bofur just shook his head patiently, retrieving a newly-carved figure from his pocket and placing it in the lad's hands. The little one was immediately taken with the gift, turning the miniature dwarf every which way before banging it soundly against the desk. He appeared to delight in the loud sounds this created, a feeling his cringing father didn't share in the least, and was soon deposited on the floor to continue his noise a little farther away.

"Thank you Bofur," Bilbo offered weakly, trying to suppress the urge to cover his sensitive ears. The miner flushed, pleased to have been able to help.

By winters end the room that Bilbo shared with his son was bursting with toys of all sorts, most of them carved out of wood by the hatted dwarf with the cheery smile. Many an evening would find Gorbo lining up the members of the company along the floor, their ranks joined by nameless soldiers and a rather impressive dragon figure. The days would see the child toddling after Bilbo, an animal and a hobbit clutched in either fist.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: apologies for taking so long with this update. I knew who I was going to be writing about, but had a little trouble with getting the flow right. On a better note, I have a fairly good idea for the subject of next chapter, so it will likely come out much faster. Hope you like it, and reviews get a hug from Gorbo!<br>**


	12. Thranduil

Winter was drawing to a slow close, with barely the hint of spring sun to coax a green haze over the desolation. The mountain flourished from within, the heat of forge fire warming the entire kingdom and lighting it with a golden glow that filled the halls. The company were busily engaging themselves with productive activities all about the mountain, and Bilbo had found himself inexplicably drawn into participating. A trip to the famed library here, a peek into the kitchens there, all in between short walks outside to soak up the softly warming air.

Only one room seemed continually filled with a distinct lack of goodwill, the varied races that were reluctantly arranged around the council table barely holding back sharp words, while muttering insults under their breath. Negotiations had come to a jarring halt, due to what exactly none of them could guess, but each had their suspicions that were pinned directly on their opponents. The elves proclaimed the dwarves still too stubborn in their greed, the dwarves insisted the elves and men were too grasping too soon, and the men were sick of the entire affair. Only Gandalf remained calm, with the barest flicker of irritation in his old eyes to betray his true feelings.

This was how Bilbo found himself being interrupted during a session of story time with Gorbo, as the hobbit slowly read one of the only books he had found written in westron. It was Thorin who approached from the hall, his normally intimidating figure slightly hunched with the strain of political woe.

"Master Baggins, if I might have a word?" he asked politely.

Bilbo placed the book aside, ensuring it was out of Gorbo's reach and offering a hesitant smile. "Course. What is it?"

"Tor, tor!" Gorbo chirped, holding out his hands to the dwarf. Thorin gave the lad an absent-minded smile, ruffling his short hair and setting him to giggles.

"Our meetings have come to a standstill," he began, sitting across from the hobbit with a groan. "It seems we are in need of an unbiased opinion." At this proclamation he gave Bilbo a pointed look.

Bilbo stared at him for a moment, absorbing the announcement with a frown of confusion before the realization dawned upon him. "Oh, oh! Me?" he asked incredulously. Thorin merely nodded, looking hopeful in a way that Bilbo just couldn't help responding to. "Well, I shall have to bring Gorbo with me, I cannot leave him unattended," he said worriedly.

"That will not be a problem," Thorin assured him quickly, the relief stark on his face, and despite Bilbo's misgivings he was glad to be the cause of such a feeling.

The very next day the three of them entered the council chambers together, and Bilbo was placed at a seat between Thorin and Balin, the better to have matters explained to him and aid in keeping the dwarf king's temper in check. Gorbo was on his lap, fiddling with a couple of wooden figures he had brought along, a cookie in his mouth and a plate of them near enough to keep him sufficiently content.

The meeting began calmly enough, with Balin introducing the topic to be discussed. Bilbo stayed shrunk in his chair, feeling altogether small in this room full of men and elves and stout dwarven warriors. Especially when those that hadn't met him began to stare at Gorbo, the lad oblivious to the scrutiny. He merely listened, coming to the conclusion that trade for food was being argued over, with quantity and the method of payment being the points of contention.

It almost seemed that his presence alone would be enough to keep the factions from dissolving into pointless arguments, until Thranduil began to pointedly examine him during a lull in conversation. "Am I to understand that these creatures were responsible for the breaking out of the prisoners in my halls?" he asked languidly, frowning in distaste.

"Yeesh," Bilbo muttered, rather at a loss for words. "Sorry about that," he offered, looking not at all apologetic.

Thranduil glowered, undeterred by the rising grumbles that were emanating from the dwarves side of the table. "Moreover, you brought that spawn of rats into my kingdom. I cannot understand how you allow such filth to continue residing here," he sniped, his insults leveled at a fuming Thorin.

Nearly all the dwarves looked about to rise to their feet, and even Bilbo had made to leap up in a surge of protective fury, but Gorbo beat them to it. The lad appeared to have caught the darkening mood in the room, and his focus went to the elven king that was eyeing him with unconcealed disgust. In the tense silence the small lad let forth the most spectacular raspberry, sticking his tongue out at the elven king and spraying crumbs across the table.

Thranduil's eyes widened almost comically, his mouth flopping open in indignation, but the dwarves and men burst into hearty laughter, and even the elf prince was holding a hand over his face, trying to conceal his rising mirth. Gorbo clapped in delight at the positive reception.

"Well, it seems you have your answer," Balin offered diplomatically. "Now, if we could perhaps get back to the topic at hand?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Haha, I had a heck of a time writing this chapter. I mean, can you imagine his face? Chapters should come more often now, as I have plotted out a fair few of them. Next up will be Bombur, and if anyone has any requests beyond the remaining company members or Dis, feel free to let me know in a comment. I'm always looking for inspiration.<br>**


	13. Bombur

Spring was in full bloom now, the harsh edges of the desolation made smooth under a sweeping carpet of new greenery. It seemed the ash that had mixed into the soil in copious amounts lent a richness to the earth, aiding in its recovery. Bilbo idly thought of his return home, somehow coming up with multiple excuses to put it off. Just one more day, he would mutter to himself, watching as Gorbo wound his way into the hearts of the dwarves. One more week. Weeks turned into months, and still Bilbo spared barely a concern for something that used to seem so important.

The kitchens had soon come to be one of Gorbo's favorite places, and the lad could often be found there being utterly spoiled by Bombur and his many helpers. So it was, that when Bilbo had eagerly volunteered to assist Ori in recovering some documents in the library, Bombur offered to take the lad under his watchful care, and Bilbo was quick to relent.

"Alright then laddie, what shall we do first?" Bombur asked his young charge, carrying him into the steamy room. He placed him on a tall chair, making it easy for Gorbo to see across the large table that was used in preparing food. Already there were crusts for pies rolled out, and bowls of pastry filling jockeying for room beside partially chopped mounds of meat and vegetables.

"Help!" Gorbo shrieked happily, reaching for the knife that was laying beside a pile of carrots.

Bombur hurriedly moved it out of range. "Not so fast. This is sharp, little one."

"Shark?" Gorbo asked quizzically, head tilted to the side in an endearing manner.

"Aye, very shark," Bombur chuckled. "Mustn't touch." He dipped a spoon into the nearest bowl, extending it to Gorbo's mouth. "Here, you taste this for Bombur and tell me if it's good, aye?"

Gorbo contemplated this for some moments, before sticking out his tongue in evident disgust. "Ick," he muttered softly, scrubbing a tiny hand over his lips as if to try and dispel the lingering taste.

A flustered Bombur immediately tried the concoction himself, worried that there was indeed something wrong with it, as the lad had not shown any sort of preferences before. His mouth was assailed by the strong flavor of cherries, but it was in no way out of the ordinary for the tarts the mixture would be going into. "Huh, guess you just don't like cherries, eh?"

"Ick," Gorbo repeated adamantly.

"Hmm, what else? How about this laddie?" Bombur prompted, holding out one of the carrot pieces that had been sliced and peeled. Gorbo nursed at it for a bit, gnawing on the end with his sharp teeth, before tossing it across the room in frustration. "Oh, now that wasn't nice!" Bombur scolded him, looking forlornly after the perfectly good vegetable that was now wasted on the dirty floor.

He tried many other things as the afternoon wore on, with no more success than the first. Honey was used as finger paint, cabbage was shredded and turned into a hat, and even the cookies Gorbo usually liked had been discarded, their crumbled remains littering the space in front of the fussy child.

Bombur was left muttering in annoyance at this point, eyeing the sullen Gorbo with helpless irritation. "Imagine that, child doesn't like anything. Must be a phase you're going through. I'd hate to think you're doin this just to spite me." He cast his gaze around the table one last time, looking for inspiration and coming up empty. "Is there nothin at all you like?" he pleaded, unable to stomach the thought of starving the lad through some sort of miscommunication.

As if this was the permission he had been waiting for, Gorbo crawled directly up onto the table, for a moment unhindered by a curious Bombur. The dwarf waited to see what had caught the lads eye, not realizing until too late what should have been obvious, despite the temporary disgust it caused him.

When Bilbo entered the kitchen it was to see Gorbo with a bowl full of raw beef chunks, the juices running down his chin, and a frazzled Bombur giving him nothing more than a resigned shrug.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Just in case we all needed a little reminder that Gorbo is in fact a goblin youngster, and most likely highly carnivorous in his diet despite what anyone else might want. Coming up next will be Dori!<br>**


	14. Dori

Bilbo trudged wearily into his room, Gorbo wriggling in his arms to be let down, and the tired hobbit was happy to oblige. He had been stuck in the middle of yet another useless dispute between the elves and dwarves, and he was seriously beginning to reconsider the merits of casting aside respectability and just yelling at them all to shut up. The argument had lasted the better part of the day, leaving him just enough time to retrieve Gorbo from the kitchens before supper. The lad was still refusing most food other than the raw meat that he had taken a liking to, a fact that left the hobbit shuddering in distaste at the sight. He had been rather surprised to note that he was the only one who felt that way for the most part. The dwarves had been quite cavalier about the whole affair, but considering their own diet of mostly meat, he supposed it should not have come as so much of a shock.

Now they were at last in the quiet seclusion of Bilbo's own private space, and to his intense dismay Gorbo did not appear to be at all sleepy. The small toddler was happily jumping about on top of the bed he had been gifted with to replace the crib that had been rapidly outgrown. Though it was quite low to the ground, Bilbo still found himself worrying, and hurried forward to pull his excitable son to the floor.

"Time for sleep, sweetheart," he murmured, sighing when Gorbo again squirmed out of his grasp to race around the room, gabbling incessantly about his day in the kitchen. The little one was not at all discouraged when only half of what he said came out in any comprehensible form, and continued to chirp away happily. Deciding to let him work out some of his excess energy, Bilbo went to the wardrobe to gather up a clean set of bedclothes, and to start a bath. A hard day was no reason for a lapse in cleanliness, no matter how much he would like to have an excuse just this once to let it be.

Once he had everything ready, Bilbo wrestled Gorbo out of his clothes and into the tub, sighing again when he was soon soaked through with the lavender scented water. He had hoped it might serve to calm the lad, as it had been a favorite of his when he was little, but Gorbo was oblivious to the soothing effects of the herb, and pushed his wooden boat around with undaunted enthusiasm.

Bath time was cut shorter than normal when Bilbo found himself nodding off right over the tub, and it was only another splash that jerked him back to semi-alertness. He wrapped Gorbo in a fluffy towel, drying him off near the hearth and tugging on his warm pajamas. Still, the lad was restless, rolling around on the bed that he had been placed in, and mussing the blankets Bilbo had so painstakingly tucked around him. Nearly at his wits end, Bilbo began to sing a soft lullaby, and it was only after an hour of this that Gorbo at last drifted off to sleep. Bilbo had only a moment to feel some dull relief before he fell asleep himself, slumped against the side of Gorbo's bed.

Dawn was sending the first shafts of light down into the mountain when Gorbo awoke, slipping off the bed and right past a heavily sleeping Bilbo. The small boy didn't cast a single look behind him before using a stool near the door to reach the handle, and then he was out and toddling down the wide hall, off on an early morning adventure. Back in the room, Bilbo slumbered on...

It was Dori who found Gorbo first, nearly knocking the lad over as he strolled down the hall, not expecting to bump into anyone at this early hour. "What are you doing out here?" the elder dwarf asked in concern, scooping up an eager Gorbo and leveling him with a look that was far more worried than it was stern.

"Bibo sleep, Dori!" the lad explained. "Go walk." The child smiled up at his new audience with innocent cheer.

"Adad is asleep is he?" Dori murmured, heading at once to confirm the validity of this statement, worried that he would come upon a frantic hobbit, but it appeared Gorbo had spoken the truth. The door was still creaked open, and upon peering inside they were treated to the sight of Bilbo sprawled against the bed, head laid back on the mattress. Snorting in contained amusement, Dori crept in as quietly as he could and laid a blanket over the hobbit, and after scrawling a short note on a scrap of paper from his pocket, he left it tucked near Bilbo's hand. The two then retreated from the room, Gorbo getting great fun out of pretending to be sneaky.

When Bilbo woke it was to a moment of panic before he registered the flutter of paper against the palm of his hand. '_Found Gorbo in the halls. Have him at my room now. Dori_.' Bilbo was torn between relief and dread. Gorbo could now get out of their rooms, which meant nothing was safe anymore. He hurried to dress, padding out into the hall and in search of his wayward son, already contemplating the type of lock he might need to keep the little one contained at night. His knock at Dori's front door was met with the joyful squeal of Gorbo, followed by a whump as the lad threw himself into his legs. He didn't even have the heart to scold him after such an enthusiastic greeting.

"Dadad! Up, up!" Gorbo cried, bouncing on his toes. Bilbo swept him up, giving Dori an appreciative look and holding his son close.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: Gotta love mothering Dori. The next chapter will be all about Kili, and we get to see how well our mischievous prince handles babysitting duty. I'd also like to give a shout out to my reviewers, you guys are great! To answer one here, there will be a chapter on Dis in the near future, and Dain has been added to my list of people to write about, though I may not get to him for a bit yet. Again, if there is any person or situation that you would like to see written about, do let me know. I can't promise all of them, but I will certainly do my best to put anything into consideration as long as it is not a mature theme. This is going to continue to be a lighthearted family story, and I am still undecided about whether to include any romance at all. Thanks again for reading, reviews are appreciated!<br>**


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